Here, There and Everything In Between
by Belo-the-Cat
Summary: From individuals to a team. From strangers to friends. From enemies to family. A lot can change in one year.
1. New Friends, Old Enemies

**A/N: Salutations, llamas. Like the summary said, this fic basically focuses on life for the Avengers after Loki and how they moved in together, etc etc. Hopefully it won't be too terrible. Cheers to my brother for helping me with finding Tony's voice and proofreading this chapter.  
I don't own anything. If I was making money off of this I wouldn't have to spend my holiday folding letters for eight hours a day. **

Three days after the Chitauri attack, dust and rubble seemed to have crept their way into every corner of Midtown Manhattan and the sounds of machinery and sirens had taken over the city as clean-up crews dealt with the wreckage.

SHIELD's New York base had been several streets away from the bulk of the battle and had been spared most of the damage, although the same couldn't be said for the buildings surrounding it. Up on its third floor, Bruce Banner hovered near one of the windows, a cup of decaf coffee in one hand as he gazed at the destruction lining the street below. He hung a few feet back -a habit honed over the years as a fugitive- and tried to ignore the dark hum of the Other Guy in the back of his mind.

It was, just like the destruction he was looking at, a reminder of why he shouldn't be here. Not in one of the world's most densely-populated and fast-paced cities. It was selfish and irresponsible, but what else could he do? Every way out of New York was filled with security checkpoints and searches making sure no one took anything Chitauri-related out of the city. That was what SHIELD's clean-up crews were doing, clearing the dead alien bodies, weapons and equipment off of the streets. The Avenger's, minus Bruce for obvious reasons and Thor because he was back on Asgard, were helping.

Or, Bruce thought as he heard the elevator doors down the hall open and a loud, familiar voice, supposed to be helping. Bruce had about two seconds to mourn the four hours of blissful silence in the lab he had enjoyed this morning before the door was flung open, revealing Tony, still wearing the suit, minus the helmet. Behind him was Steve, who was dressed normally.

'Hey there Brucey, how was your morning surrounded by SHIELD's sub-standard tech?'

Bruce couldn't help the wry smile that spread across his face. Substandard? This was the best lab he had worked in for years, except for the one on the Helicarrier but that one had been… blown up.

'It was quiet.' He replied, sending a rueful look in the inventor's direction.

Ton just shrugged cheerfully.

'Quiet is boring.' He stated matter-of-factly before heading over to the workstation and looking over the figures Bruce had obtained from the Chitauri gun SHIELD had asked him to study.

Bruce glanced over the door, noticing Steve hanging awkwardly there before waving him in. He looked at the two of them, taking in the coating of grime and dust on them.

'What happened to the two of you?'

'The question, Doc, is what didn't happen. You see, Spangles and I were just minding our own business, literally doing the heavy lifting-'

'You were blasting music all over the street Stark.' Steve interrupted crossly.

'And then this awning just gives way and it's just about to fall on Legolas, so naturally I go catch it but then the entire building is about to collapse so Spangles comes running and knocks us both out of the way-'

'You're welcome.' Steve muttered.

'Then the press goes insane and Hill goes insane, just in a different way, and says we're causing distractions and sends us home. Or well, that was Barton and Romanoff went, you don't suppose they live together do you?' Tony was busy swiping through equations on the screen and Bruce tried not to sign at the layer of grime he was getting on it.

Steve shifted uncomfortably and Bruce couldn't help but wonder why he was here. The initial hostility between Tony and Steve had more or less dissipated, leaving a rather awkward tension in its wake. Bruce couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he had a feeling it ran a little deeper than Steve's morals and Tony's complete disregard for them. He knew Steve had an apartment, courtesy of SHIELD, but well, maybe the man didn't want to be left alone and who was Bruce to judge him for that?

Boy, Bruce corrected himself, as Steve yawned and ran a hand through his grimy hair, messing it up. With Steve's build and the way he had led them in battle, it was easy to forget that he was just twenty-two, minus the years spent in the ice.

'Touchscreen,' Tony snorted derisively at the screen, distracting Bruce from his thoughts, 'Doc, you need to come over to the tower, the first floor of the R&D department alone would make you drool.'

Bruce just gave him a faint smile. It wasn't the first time Tony had invited him over, but he wasn't about to put everyone in Stark Industries at risk with his presence in the tower.

Thankfully Tony's cell rang then, saving Bruce from having to give the same old answer.

'Pepper!' There was a decidedly nervous note in Tony's voice now, 'No, nothing happened. Really, it was just a small incident, they should be thanking me for it-'

He was abruptly cut off by what appeared to be a blistering tirade from Pepper Potts. Bruce shivered slightly. Betty on one of her bad days had nothing on the CEO of Stark Industries. Steve was backing carefully from Tony and the phone. Their fear wasn't without reason. They had all witnessed Pepper's rage when they returned from the battle.

…

_It was a weary bunch that trooped into SHIELD's New York headquarters, with one handcuffed Norse god and a befuddled scientist in tow. They were instantly swamped by people, and Thor glared at the guards who grabbed Loki and pulled him towards the detention cells. _

_Tony's first instinct was to go and grab shawarma, but SHIELD's medical staff had other ideas. Along with the wide array of cuts and bruises that decorated all of them, Steve had a nasty plasma burn on his abdomen, Thor had been _stabbed_ and neglected to tell them until Natasha noticed the blood on his amour. Both assassins had concussions and there was deep gash in Clint's back from where his quiver had dug into it. Bruce, who had shrunk down to his regular form after Loki had been taken away, was barely conscious. Tony himself had shards of glass embedded in his arm from being thrown out of a window and of course, there was the whole flying into outer space and technically dying thing to deal with._

_So there they had been in the medical ward, with Bruce staying awake just for the sake of food and Thor demanding to know where Loki was. Clint and Natasha were nowhere to be found, but according to the doctors it was usual for the assassins to go off and treat their own wounds. Steve was just tired, staring exhaustedly at the floor and Tony was threatening to sue any doctor that came near him, his voice adding to chaos that was the medical ward when suddenly, to Steve's relief there was silence. Dead silence._

_He glanced up, realizing that for the first time since he had met him something had left Tony Stark speechless. And that something came in the form of a tall red-head who stood at the entrance of the medical ward, clutching a phone and staring at Stark like he was a ghost. _

_The billionaire quickly yanked himself to his feet, looking nervous, 'Hey, Pep-' _

_He didn't get any further than that._

'_YOU IDIOT.' _

_Everyone cringed but 'Pep's' ire was focused solely on Tony as she strode towards him. He stumbled back but the bed blocked him._

'_Now, Pepper-'_

'_You flew a _nuclear missile_ through a _portal _into _outer space_ after fighting aliens and you had the nerve to _call me_ and you had _no idea_ if you were going to make it out or not-'_

'_Pepper-'_

'_Don't lie to me Tony I asked JARVIS-' Pepper was now nose-to-nose with Tony and glaring at him in a way that would have made most men curl up into a ball and cry._

'_That _traitor_-'_

'_And before that you went to Germany and tried to fight a Norse _god_ and then you _jumped out of a plane_ to fight another Norse god-' _

'_Pep- Ow!'_

'_And after that, you get into a fight, _without the suit_, with the same Norse god from before and get yourself _thrown out of our window_-'She was poking, or rather hitting, him in the chest every time she paused to take a breath._

'_It wasn't that bad stop-'_

'_Then you fight _aliens_, _fly _through an _alien whale_ and DID I MENTION FLY A MISSILE INTO OUTER SPACE AND NEARLY DIE-'_

_Tony then did what was probably the bravest thing Steve had ever seen. He wrapped his arms around Pepper, cutting her tirade of._

'_I'm sorry.' There was no doubting the sincerity in Stark's voice as he rested his chin on Pepper's shoulder._

_She drew in a shuddering breath. _

'_You called me. You called me and I didn't pick up the phone oh God Tony I'm sorry-.' Pepper's voice was barely above a whisper. _

'_It's okay. It's okay. I'll change the ringtone on your phone later. Something loud. And obnoxious.' He hugged her tighter, 'We're fine. The city's only partially destroyed. Us- 1, aliens- minus infinity.' _

_She let out a choked laugh. Steve was aware that the entire medical ward, including him, was staring open-mouthed at the scene before them. _

_Tony shot a glare at all of them, and then deftly maneuvered Pepper and himself out of the ward, arms still wrapped firmly around her. _

_There was silence in the ward for several seconds, before the doctors resumed their bustling. _

_Steve looked over at Bruce who was finishing up the last of the food they had brought him on the next bed. _

'… _Wow.' Was all he could come up with. _

'_Wow indeed.' Bruce mumbled though a mouthful of soup, 'I think she's he's CEO, I heard about it on the news.' _

'_But… I thought he said he was a playboy.' Even saying the word made Steve's cheeks flush. _

_Bruce just shrugged, 'You should know better than to take everything-'He yawned hugely 'Tony says-'His eyelids drooped, 'At face value.' _

_The curly-haired doctor promptly slumped backwards onto the bed, fast asleep and clearly exhausted by his alter-ego's activities. Steve sat quietly on his bed, watching Thor try to work a cell phone to contact someone called Jane Foster, and wondered just how much he had misjudged Tony Stark. _

…

'No. No, I don't want to go to a board meeting. They're bori- Pep? Pepper?' Tony spluttered indignantly, 'She hung up on me!'

'I wonder why,' Bruce stated dryly as he put his now empty cup on the desk and walked back to the computer, flipping through a set of notes.

He tried to hold back a wistful sigh as he glanced out of the window again. Before this whole fiasco Bruce had spent nearly all his time outdoors, whether it was in slums or the wilderness. He had spent the past three days inside the base and it was starting to wear on him. He couldn't go outside though. Couldn't endanger New York like that.

His gaze fell onto one man hovering near a lamppost. Hadn't he been there twenty minutes ago…? The man stretched his neck absentmindedly, upsetting the cap on his head and _was that a wire-_

Bruce was already stumbling hastily back from the window when Tony swore harshly and lunged forward, grabbing the back of Bruce's shirt and hauling him further away.

'JARVIS, why the hell was I not notified that Ross was in town-'

Tony's barked question into his Bluetooth was cut-off as canisters shot through the windows, sending glass shards everywhere and a hissing noise filled the room. They stumbled back, sending stacks of paper to the floor as Tony collided into a desk.

'Really? Again?' Bruce laughed wheezily, trying to calm his racing heart.

'Stark! Doc! What's going on?' Steve was already moving, flinging the door open and pushing the two of them out into the corridor even as he spoke.

Steve slammed the door shut and they stumbled for several steps before Bruce yanked his arm out of Tony's grip and slumped against a wall, gasping as he tried to hold back the green encroaching on his vision. The Other Guy was screaming, raging to be let out because _Ross_ and Bruce needed to get away now but nopenope Steve and Tony were here and they would get hurt.

'Doctor Banner- Bruce-' Steve was trying to herd them into an elevator, away from the gas but Bruce was certain any movement would make him lose control.

Tony's voice was suddenly next to Bruce's ear. 'Much as I love the jolly green giant, now really isn't the time.'

If Bruce hadn't been at war with himself he would have laughed sarcastically. His head jerked up in surprise at the smell of something sharp and herb-y and a curiously calming sensation that followed it. He shoved the Other Guy back fiercely, clearing the hazy thoughts from his mind before cautiously opening his eyes.

Tony was next to him, triumphantly clutching a tiny bottle in his hands.

'How…' Steve was open-mouthed.

'Smelling salts!' Tony crowed triumphantly, 'They're Pepper's; I don't know how they ended up in my pocket-'Steve flushed 'I didn't think they'd actually work but hey whaddya know!'

'Ok, what's going on? Why are we under attack?' Steve demanded.

'I need to leave.' Bruce gasped, 'It's General Ross, he's uh… He doesn't really like me, or the Other Guy. Cap, you should make yourself scarce too.'

'Whoa, hang on-'

'That won't be necessary Dr. Banner.' The elevator doors had chosen that moment to ding open, revealing Nick Fury.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing Bruce was backing away, ignoring Tony's mutters of 'that was a dramatic entrance'.

'Don't. Please. Whatever he's offering you, don't accept! It won't end well for anyone here!'

The Other Guy was raging again. Tony took a step forward and Bruce flinched back. Then his jaw dropped open as Tony stepped in front of him, closely followed by Steve.

'Is someone after Dr. Banner?' There was a steely note in Steve's voice.

'Save it.' The Director said curtly, cutting off Tony just as he was about to start a rant. He looked at Bruce, 'You know why he's here.'

Bruce nodded, trying to keep the green from encroaching on his vision. He wondered if he could make it out of the building before changing. But the amount of damage he would cause… He shuddered.

'Banner! There's no way we're giving in to him.'

That was new. Bruce blinked in surprise. For a second there was silence, then it was broken by (duh) Tony.

'Then why are you still here, _boss_? Shouldn't you be chasing him away, or do I have to do all the work?'

Fury scowled. 'Ross is persistent. We've got him in an interview room now and we thought Dr. Banner might want to watch.

…

Even though he knew the room was sound-proofed and the mirror was a one-way mirror, Bruce couldn't help feeling more than a little but iffy about being so close to General Ross. He was keeping a careful distance between himself and the glass, but it was still discontorting.

'This is weird.' He muttered, staring through the glass into the room where Ross sat at a table and scowled in his direction.

There was a quiet knock and the door opened, showing a cleaned up Steve and Tony.

'Do you mind company?' Steve asked sheepishly.

He did, actually. He didn't want anyone hearing the things Ross might have to say, and he didn't want anyone around in case he lost control. But the two of them had just stood up for him against Fury. And it wasn't like Tony would listen and he knew Steve would, but with a look on his face that resembled a kicked puppy.

Sighing, he waved them in.

'Do you know him?' Steve frowned at Ross through the glass, still looking confused.

'You could say that…' Bruce was in no mood to spill his life story.

'Rossy works with the army,' Tony interjected, 'Somehow, he managed to get into New York without JARVIS notifying me until he stepped into the building fifteen minutes ago, and he's got some interest in our joy green giant, although I don't know the full story. I haven't hacked those files. Yet.'

Bruce scowled and Steve sighed.

'But I've met him before. Nasty, nasty piece of work.'

'He spent eight years hunting me. That's an understatement.' Bruce sighed.

Steve's startled response was interrupted by the door of the interview room opening and Fury walking in, poker face in place as he took the chair opposite Ross.

'Director.'

'General.'

'You know what I'm here for. Give us the monster and there won't be any violence necessary.'

'I'm sorry,' Fury said, leaning casually back in his chair, 'but was that before or after you shot gas canisters through our third-floor windows? You're paying for those.'

Ross just glowered.

Fury tilted his head slightly before sighing sadly. 'I'm afraid I'll have to decline.'

Bruce felt his pulse quicken slightly, but not to a dangerous level, at the expression on the general's face as he leaned over the table.

'Director, surely you know the danger that that monster poses. He's killed innocents, kidnapped my daughter, he's a fugitive and he nearly destroyed Harlem! He needs to be put away!'

Bruce fought to keep his face impassive. Tony and Steve were both glowering at Ross and Bruce was surprised the glass didn't melt from their combined glares. It was strangely… heartening.

'Dr. Banner is a guest with SHIELD. He's done the world a great service. Also, I doubt that your intention is to 'put away' Dr. Banner. Might I also remind you that nearly all of the incidents you mentioned were of your own doing.'

Ross slammed a fist into the table but Fury didn't seem the least bit fazed, even when the general stood and towered over him.

'You either give it to us, or we'll take it from you,' Ross was practically purple with rage, 'and don't think we don't know about that super soldier either.'

Steve started in surprise.

'I've got men covering this building ready to come in and-'

Fury's face couldn't be seen but it sounded like he was smiling. 'You really think you can do that?'

Tony's phone had appeared and his fingers were a blur of motion. He drew up a few holograms from the screen, showing lines and lines of code and a scan of the street outside where there were several _tanks._

'Who's going to stop me?' Ross hissed, 'your 'Avengers'?'

Tony muttered a couple of commands into his Bluetooth, rearranged several lines of coding and then beamed happily as the tanks started backing away.

'The Army needs to upgrade its security system,' Tony announced smugly, 'I also made the PA system on the tanks blast the Pokémon theme song.'

Fury glanced down at his phone, then stood.

'Perhaps it's time you took your leave, General.'

The vein in Ross's neck bulged and he jammed a finger into the comm. link in his ear.

'Move in!'

All Ross heard was a young boy's voice and a mouse-like animal's cry, which sounded a bit like PETA.

'Stark,' he spat.

He cast a threatening gaze around the room, glaring through the mirror and then at Fury.

'You'll pay. Your entire so-called team will pay. I know who they are and I know where to find them! And I'll get what I want!' He stormed out.

'My God, he certainly seems to have everything under control, doesn't he?' Tony smirked.

Fury flipped his phone open. 'He's left the building. I want men on him now. Track him.'

The Director left the interview and entered the smaller one where the three men were.

'Ross meant what he said. As of right now, the Avengers, Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers especially, are on his list.'

Bruce laughed dryly. 'Really? I haven't noticed that for the past 12 years! Now, can I get a lift to Calcutta?'

'What?' Tony exclaimed, 'Doc, c'mon, do the words 'ten floors of R&D' mean nothing to you?'

Poor Steve looked even more confused, but he was still Captain America.

'Director, someone ought to warn Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff.'

Fury response was a snort. 'Warn Romanoff and Barton? Don't you mean warn the poor sod that got sent after them?'

**A/N: So like I said, this is probably going to be quite a long story and hopefully updates will be regular. Please tell me what you think, any suggestions or constructive criticism is welcome and much-needed.**


	2. Decisions, decisions

**Oh my gosh I was not expecting that kind of response. You guys are awesome. **

**Big thanks to Qweb, GremlinX, 'my baby' (I know who you are dearie. Thanks xx) IaMcHrIsSi (cool name dude), dragonborn360 and guest. It's really encouraging :) I don't own anything. All characters are owned by Marvel, I am making no profit from this, it's 1 am and I'm really hungry. **

**On to chapter two. Eep. **

Natasha Romanoff turned left on the avenue and paused for a second, taking in the new coat of sickly orange paint that covered the building in front of her. Four- no wait, six. Or was it seven and a half? - months ago, it had been a pale, dirty yellow. She shrugged slightly as she pushed open the main doors, stepping into the lobby and taking the rickety old stairs two at a time. It didn't matter.

At the moment, Natasha was more than a little irritated. Or at least, that was what she was telling herself. The proper terms for Natasha's current emotional state would be grief, sadness and uncertainty. Phil was dead. That thought still made the breath catch in Natasha's throat. Clint, her partner in more ways than just work, was nowhere near even beginning to recover from what Loki had done to him. He was a pale shadow of his former self and it terrified her. They were expected to join the Avengers, and that was ridiculous because they were assassins and if their identities and pictures were leaked to the press, the Chitauri invasion would look like peanuts compared to the wrath that would descend on them.

But Natasha wasn't about to admit that she was scared. So, she settled for irritation. And irritated she was, seeing as they had been sent home like misbehaving children. For the last two days, walking into New York's SHIELD base after a full day of working clean-up had made Clint tense almost imperceptibility, despite the exhaustion they both felt, which meant it had taken all of his self-control not to run right back out screaming. So, she had suggested they head back to their respective apartments, seeing as neither agent had been there for months. They walked two blocks before realizing they were being tailed.

Today was so not Natasha's day.

She reached the landing on the eighth floor, headed towards the fourth apartment and started unlocking the five locks on it. They had been all picked and locked again and Natasha held back a huff of irritation at that. She entered the dimly apartment, cautiously shutting the door behind her. Sunlight seeped through the curtains over the windows, catching on disturbed dust particles that swirled through the air, another sign that she wasn't alone.

Maybe there was an advantage to never being home after all.

But then again, Natasha reflected, as she dropped her duffel bag on the floor and launched herself in a somersault towards the five men that had sprung out from behind the couch, this wasn't home.

Home was in their private training room back in the Helicarrier, wiping the floor with Clint's ass while Phil laughed on the sidelines.

She wrapped her legs around the neck of one man and spun him to the floor. In the same instant her fist snapped out and collided with the temple of another, shoving him against a third man.

Home was listening to the playful banter between Clint and Phil, while she occasionally threw in a remark, usually to back their handler up against her partner and then smirking at the look of mock hurt Clint would throw her way.

She sprung into the air, kicking the elbow of the man who had just pulled out a gun. The bones gave way and he let out a yell of pain as she yanked the gun from his grip and spun, slamming an elbow into his sternum and firing the gun in her other hand.

Home was any place in the world that they happened to be in, as long as she woke up with Clint pressed up against her.

The bullet slammed into the shoulder of the fifth man who had just been about to fire his gun. She kicked, knocking the gun from his grip and he slumped to the floor. There was a clatter of footsteps behind her and she spun to face more intruders.

Only to realize they weren't there anymore. Clint gave her an amused look as he punched the last one in the temple, knocking him out.

'You should oil your windows more often. It was a bitch trying to get them open.' He stated, gesturing to the bathroom, where he had undoubtedly climbed in through the window.

When the assassins had realized they were being tailed, Natasha had continued walking while Clint had slipped away and then travelled via rooftop to her apartment to provide surprise back-up. Not that she needed it.

She huffed irritably. 'They do open. It's not my fault you're too big to get through.'

'Well-' He paused in the middle of his retort, eyes abruptly shuttering before turning away from her.

'Better contact SHIELD about this.' He muttered over his shoulder as he marched through the rooms under the guise of checking for more intruders.

Natasha bit back a sigh and tried to ignore the sudden feeling of loss. Clint had been doing this for the past three days, after he had woken up from a twelve-hour nap after shawarma. Closed himself off, pulled away from her and threw himself into the relief efforts.

'This is Agent Romanoff, reporting an A-56, threat has been-' She had just started to speak into her comm. link after unmuting it when Clint barreled out of the bedroom.

'Thermite charge, move!'

The red-head cursed angrily then bent and seized the collars of two men who were feebly stirring on the ground. Clint yanked the door open and threw her duffle bag out before helping her pull the two out by unceremoniously kicking them out. She had a clear view of the five men still lying on the apartment floor before the door slammed shut. There was barely time for a pang of regret before the door was blown off of its hinges by an explosion that shook the entire building.

Both assassins winced at the ringing in their ears, blinking away the spots in their vision and Natasha sighed at the smoldering wreck that had once been her apartment. There hadn't been anything valuable there, but still.

'What on earth happened?' A voice screeched and Natasha turned to scowl at her neighbor, a wizened elderly lady whom, when Natasha had run a background check on her, turned out to be running a credit card scam and made it a regular point to Google the names of everyone in the building.

'Natalie!' The woman paused in surprise. 'You're back! With… friends.' She finished weakly, taking in the sight of two unconscious men and the archer glaring at her.

'There was a gas leak.' Natasha said shortly. 'It's lucky we got out in time.'

'But-'

'Gas leak,' Natasha stated flatly, looking coolly at her.

Another explosion sounded out, this time across the street and Clint scowled as he glanced through Natasha's apartment, where from the shattered window he had a clear view of his own, now equally wrecked, apartment. The woman let out a startled squeak and cast them suspicious glances before darting back into her home and slamming the door.

The sounds of sirens could be heard and Clint headed down the stairs to speak with the landlord, giving Natasha enough time to roughly seize the man who had come to and was pretending to be unconscious. He winced, glancing around in panic as she slammed him against the wall.

'Who sent you?' she asked quietly.

She could see her gaze, cold and impersonal, reflected in his wide eyes. The man gasped nervously before pressing his lips tightly together. Then he shrieked as the hand that wasn't pinning his neck to the wall slammed into his broken elbow.

'Who?' She asked again.

'The army,' he whimpered. 'General Ross promised us promotions…'

The name made her eyes narrow and he cringed in fear. Natasha rolled her eyes before knocking him out with a punch to the forehead. She let the man slide to the floor as she pressed a hand to her comm. link again.

'This is Agent Romanoff. Secure the line and get me Fury.'

'Line secure,' the agent on the other end stated and then the director's voice sounded in her ear.

'Romanoff.'

'Director. Agent Barton and I have been attacked but it's been dealt with. General Ross is responsible.'

There was a gusty sigh on the other end.

'Report back to base ASAP. We'll have agents at the scene to do clean-up.'

'Yes sir.' She muttered and muted her comm. link just as Clint bounded back up the stairs.

'Back to base?'

'Yep.' She sighed, hoisting her duffel bag. 'Got everything you need?'

He hoisted his own bag in response and Natasha nodded. They both lived out of bags, packaging their lives so that moving on was easier. Her favorite sidearms and knives, gifts from Clint and Phil, were always on her. The bag contained three books and spare set of clothes.

'Come on,' she turned and was about to head down the stairs when she noticed the slight hesitation in the way Clint's shoulders tensed and his eyes showed the slightest hint of vulnerability for a second before they shuttered again.

He didn't want to go back to base where agents would glare and mutter and she couldn't blame him. She could only glare back at the offending agents until they realized their mistake and backed away. The red-headed assassin walked back to her partner, placing a hand on his arm. He stiffened slightly, refusing to meet her gaze, but he didn't pull away either. It wasn't much, but she supposed it was better than nothing. They walked out together, Natasha never letting go.

…

The door to the conference room opened, revealing the two assassins and Nick Fury let out a quiet sigh of relief he didn't know he had been holding. Five more minutes of having to listen to Stark's deliberately out of tune humming would have resulted in the director shooting either Stark, or himself. Most likely Stark.

'Well we're on time, aren't we?' Tony smirked from where he was sitting with his feet propped up on the table.

He took in the sight of Natasha's slightly ruffled hair and Clint's bruised knuckles and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Natasha glared but Clint just sat at the table, carefully studying the wooden grain and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

'What happened?' Steve asked.

'Ross.' Natasha replied. 'He sent men who tried to tail and ambush us.'

'They were more of a diversion.' Clint added, still staring at the table, 'The thermite charges were meant to take us out, along with the men. Nearly worked.'

Steve's eyebrows rose slightly but he didn't comment.

'A thermite charge?' Tony frowned 'that's a bit of overkill.'

'We met the general once, in Vietnam. It... Was messy. He isn't very fond of us.'

Bruce glanced up in surprise. Two years ago he had been in Vietnam. Coincidence? He didn't think so.

'Avengers.' Fury snapped, trying to get their attention.

Steve frowned, Bruce ducked his head and stared at the table, something dark flashed in Natasha's gaze for an instant before it was gone and Clint's eyes closed briefly, as though he was in pain.

'When I agreed to join this super-secret boy band of yours I thought it would have a cooler name.' Tony grumbled.

Fury ignored him and the other four's reactions to the unofficial group name.

'General Ross is after all of you. He's out for blood.' The director paced carefully along the breadth of the room.

'Thank you for telling us that, Captain Obvious. Is there anything else we need to know? Like how the sky is blue, maybe?'

Steve exhaled sharply. 'Stark, could you please take this more seriously?'

'I am taking it seriously Spangles, it's not my fault no one in this room has a single nano-gram of humour.' Tony cast an unreadable gaze about the table. 'So serious, in fact, that I'm offering free lodging in Stark Tower to all of you. Except Nicky, that is. Sorry, but I don't really like pirates.'

There was a beat of tension-loaded silence where everyone swivelled to stare at the genius. Fury stopped pacing.

Bruce thunked his head onto the table with a low groan, breaking the moment. 'Of all the bad ideas…'

'Wha- no. No way.' Steve spluttered, shaking his head.

Fury was surveying the scene with a satisfied look in his eye. 'Well that was actually what I was going to suggest but since Mr Stark has already offered…'

'It was kind of split-second decision.' Tony said, shrugging. 'So, how about it? Natashalie? Any better ideas?'

He didn't, get a response, because Natasha and Clint were frowning intently at each other. She raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head slightly and she sighed.

'… Guess not. That's a bit creepy.' The inventor mumbled, swivelling his chair away from the assassins' silent conversation.

'It's not happening.' Steve said firmly, keeping his gaze fixed on the conference table.

'C'mon, Stars and Stripes, surely you don't hate me that much.'

'It's not that!' Steve snapped, still not looking up.

'As of right now, it's the best solution.' The director's voice cut Tony off before he could reply. 'Ross will be less likely to attack if all of you are together, especially when Thor returns.'

'Or he could just wipe us all out at once,' Bruce quietly added, 'Director, it's me he wants. All of this would be unnecessary if I left. He'll follow.'

'No.' Five voices snapped back at him and Bruce blinked in surprise.

'Is moving in with Stark an order?' Natasha asked, momentarily breaking eye contact with Clint.

The director looked coolly at his agent. 'Not yet.'

She glanced back at Clint and he looked back, stormy grey eyes unreadable. It was up to her then. There was a slight pause where the red-headed mentally weighed all the factors before sighing in defeat.

'Fine. We'll go.'

No one commented on how she had just referred to Clint and herself as a single unit.

'Two down, two to go.' Tony rubbed his hands together, looking like a collector trying to make sure he got the full set. He looked at Bruce, 'How can you resist the thought of the R&D department? I'm insulted.'

'You would willingly put everyone in the tower in danger?' Bruce arched an eyebrow at him, 'It's not a good idea.'

'Well right now it's the only idea that doesn't involve you basically giving yourself up to Ross.' Fury said.

'C'mon Doc,' Tony cajoled, 'I like the big guy!'

'All the more reason…' Bruce sighed, pulling off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Well it's not like I really have a choice, right?'

'Yep, you don't.' Tony grinned smugly, putting his hands behind his head. 'That leaves you, Spangles!'

The blond-haired soldier shifted in his seat. 'There's nothing wrong with my apartment.'

'Except that it's dull and depressing, I've seen the pictures of it in the files I hacked. Might wanna upgrade your security, Nicky.'

Tony completed ignored the glowers he received.

'Captain, surely you recognize that you're more vulnerable on your own.'

'I can look after myself.'

'The rest of us will be there Captain. It makes sense for you to be there too.' Natasha pointed out quietly.

Steve clenched his jaw, arms folded tightly in front of him, his gaze again fixed firmly on the table.

'Fine.'

The tension faded slightly and Fury allowed himself a small, satisfied smile from where he stood at the front of the table.

'Good. I advise you pack your things, transport will be here in a couple of hours. Stark, SHIELD has some spare furniture, but you'll need to get your own people to transport them, all agents are working clean-up or security duties.'

'Spare furniture?' Tony snorted, as the rest filed out of the conference room. Steve was headed to his apartment, Bruce to the lab and Clint and Natasha to the armory. 'I've seen your sad excuses for beds and no one's going to be camping in the living room in sleeping bags. The tower will be ready by the time they're here, don't worry.'

Fury nodded curtly and marched out. A slight grimace crossed Tony's face as he pulled out his phone and stared at it. He hadn't been kidding when he said inviting the team to move in had been a split-second decision. Of course, that had been Fury's intent all along, but it was a little different when he was the one who initiated it. He wondered if that would be enough to save him from the wrath he was about to face.

She answered on the first ring. 'Tony? What's wrong?'

'Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you?' he grumbled back. 'Don't answer that,' he quickly added, hearing Pepper's intake of breath, indications of a rant that probably involved all the times Tony had called her because of an emergency.

'Anyway.' He winced in anticipation. 'Uhm, remember how you always said that the tower was too big for just the two of us?'

**Love it/hate it/stab the author to death with pitchforks? Review and let me know!** **Oh and Merry Christmas/Happy boxing day depending on which timezone you're in. **


	3. Settling In

**Eep sorry for the wait, work is exhausting and usually by the time I get home I'm too tired to do anything (but I still have ANOTHER job to do ugh). SO anyway, a huge thank you to my lovely reviewers Qweb, GremlinX, anon (I know who you are you idjit ) and WeLoveWeLive. Hi to all the new followers as well!**

When Tony had called to her inform her that he had just invited all four of the remaining Avengers to live with them (along with a standing invitation for Thor, when he returned) Pepper hadn't known what to say. She couldn't even think of a single expletive to scream. But Virginia Potts hadn't survived being Tony Stark's personal assistant for twelve years by letting his antics throw her, so she did what she had always done. She rolled with it.

She had called local furniture stores and arranged deliveries and in an hour the tower was teeming with people and bulky furniture being carried everywhere. Surprisingly enough, Tony had been there to direct the flow of people and give instructions on how everything was supposed to be arranged. He had even let them use his elevator. In another two hours, everything was ready and there wasn't a single clue that the living arrangements had just been put together. Sometimes, (and Pepper would never admit it to Tony) it was nice to have influence.

The Avengers had been in the tower for six hours so far, since they had arrived in the afternoon and Pepper wasn't sure if she should be relived or worried over how quiet things had been. Tony had disappeared into his lab and she had a feeling he wouldn't be coming out for a while. According to JARVIS, Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner were in their rooms, Agent Romanoff was in the gym, and Agent Barton was… in the air vents. She didn't even want to know why. But the CEO of Stark Industries knew better than to waste spare time when she had it, so she grabbed her tablet and a beer and sat by the massive glass walls of the living room, replying e-mails and wondering how the hell she was going to keep the rest from killing Tony before the week was over.

…

Three floors below Pepper, a curly-haired figure leaned on the edge of a massive bed. His bed. Bruce was still having trouble trying to wrap his mind around that fact. He glanced around the room, adjusting his glasses as he did so. The bed dominated most of the space, but to his left were several cupboards built into the wall, with frosted glass doors that slid open at his touch. They were currently empty- everything Bruce owned was still in the backpack sitting on the floor next to his feet. In front of him was a flat-screen TV that was bigger than his mattress back in Calcutta. On the other side of the room the wall had been replaced by panes of glass, giving him a view of New York City that most people would have paid an arm and leg, and quite possibly more, for. According to Tony, the glass was one-way and could be used as a computer screen too. A screen cut the room in half- on the other side of it was a tiny kitchenette and dining table. Several bookcases lined the far wall and already a few shelves were filled with compilations of papers from various scientists. The door to the bathroom was closed but Bruce had poked his head in earlier and the size of the bathtub had honestly been a little scary. The entire room was tastefully decorated in pastel-ly shades of green and blue.

How Pepper Potts and Tony had managed to do this in little over four hours, Bruce had no idea. What stunned him the most was the amount of care that had been put into the preparations. From what he could tell, each room had been designed differently for each Avenger, even Thor's, although the big guy wasn't even on the planet.

Clint and Natasha shared the highest floor other than the penthouse, so the archer's love of high places clearly hadn't been forgotten by Tony. Below that was the communal floor, which had a kitchen that would make most chefs weep, a living room and access to the balcony. Bruce was below that, with an entire floor to himself. On the other side of the floor, the room had been converted into a library. The next floor housed Steve and (eventually) Thor. Tony had clearly expanded a lot of care and effort into making sure all of the Avenger's felt at home here.

And that was what terrified Bruce the most. It was dangerous for him to stay here, both for everyone in the tower and himself. If he let himself get comfortable here, if he let himself start to actually care, build ties here, it would hurt even more when the inevitable happened and it was time to go, time to start running again.

Bruce let out a harsh bark of laughter, shaking his head. Who was he kidding? They didn't want him around, they wanted the Hulk. Bruce was just the vessel, the time-bomb that could explode at any moment. All that mattered to SHIELD and everyone else was the monster inside of him.

But all the same, a small part of him wondered. What would be like to actually live with people, not just among them? To have a place to call home, a reason to stay?

'Stop it,' Bruce whispered quietly to himself. Stop tormenting yourself with things you can't have. Stop thinking that it's okay for you to stay here. Stop hoping, it's not going to happen.

Bruce let himself lean back until he was lying on the bed, legs dangling over the side. He stared at the ceiling, watching mint green fade into periwinkle blue as the lights seared his retinas. The backpack sat on the floor. He didn't unpack. But he didn't leave, either.

…

'Up. I said up. No, that's down. And that's diagonal. Okay now you're just making me nauseous.'

Tony sighed, pushing the safety goggles up to his forehead as he watched his first-ever bot spin sickeningly about while waving an oil can, sending oil droplets spraying through the air and onto the inventor's face.

'Enough.' He snapped firmly, swiping a grease-stained hand over his face, which only made the mess worse.

The bot made a sad whirring sound and drooped its head, the can clattering onto the table. Tony scowled and folded his arms across his chest. Dummy beeped softly, then tilted its head to look at Tony in a way that was almost mournful.

Tony groaned in exasperation. What the hell had sixteen –year-old him been thinking when he gave the damn thing screws for eyes and a claw that looked like a mouth? The number of things Dummy got away with just because of his puppy-dog face wasn't healthy.

'Fine. Fine, I'm sorry. Go, take the stupid oil can and let me work.'

Dummy trilled happily, straightening up and seizing the oil can with its claw. It whirred to a corner of the lab and proceeded to send oil flying in every direction. You let an unhappy whine when JARVIS sent it to do clean-up, but the poor bot trundled over anyway, 'accidentally' bumping into Dummy.

The ensuing fight between his bots went unnoticed by Tony as he bent over the open hood of the Mustang, eyeing the engine. He reached in, tugged out the exhaust valve and tossed it aside.

'_Sir, Miss Potts is upstairs.' _

'I know,' he murmured, as he wound connecting wires to the spark plug, 'where else would she be?'

'_A board meeting, perhaps, or in her office catching up on paperwork,' _his AI retorted dryly, '_It has been a while since any of you had more than five minutes to spend together.' _

'What are you JARVIS, some kind of matchmaker? Trying to hook Pep and I up?'

'_I was merely stating facts sir. And I doubt that you and Miss Potts need any sort of prompting from me with regards to your relationship.' _

'You're a real riot JARVIS.' Tony sighed as he straightened up, wincing at the tightness in his back.

'_I try, sir.' _

Both were quiet for several moments, letting the sound of AC/DC fill the lab.

Then,

'JARVIS, what the hell was I thinking when I invited them to move in?'

'_Unfortunately sir, mind-reading isn't one of the skills I possess.' _

'Yeah, yeah,' Tony mumbled, trying to wipe the grease off his hands with an equally greasy towel.

The inventor was more than a little uncertain about his decision. But then again, he was Tony Stark. He didn't do _uncertainty. _And honestly, the idea of bringing the team together (or at least, the members of the team that were still on Earth) had been playing in the back of his mind for the past three days. Tony would sooner burn down the tower than admit that he had kind of, sorta, liked being in a team. Just a little. It was nice to have someone watching his back, someone to literally catch him when he fell. So it made sense that to keep the team together, they had to be together.

All the same, he couldn't help but wonder if his decision had been a little premature. He wasn't ready, not yet, to let anyone else into his life right now. Pepper and Rhodey. For years, the two of them had been all Tony had ever had. And now, five new additions wanted in and Tony was so not up to dealing with this.

He shuddered slightly. Was he actually being sentimental? Really, five more minutes of this emotional bullshit and he would be curled up on the couch crying at those chick-flicks Pepper loved watching.

'_If I may, sir, I'm just a computer system _(Tony rolled his eyes at the word 'just') _so human emotions are a little out of my depth. However, Miss Potts is upstairs.' _

Tony faceplamed and groaned, 'You are damned persistent, you know that?' He shook his head, tossing his tools back to the workbench. 'JARVIS, you gotta learn to be more subtle, remind me to add that to your coding. Tell Pepper I'll look for her when I'm done showering. And you two, break it up!'

The last statement had been directed at You and Dummy. You had had a screwdriver in its claw and had been attempting to jab Dummy repeatedly. The other bot had retaliated by dousing You in oil every time it got close. At Tony's command both bots stopped, sad whines emitting from them.

…

When Steve had first seen a flat-screen TV, he had thought it was some kind of new-fangled mirror. For the first week that he stayed in SHIELD's quarters after he woke up, that was what he had used the tinted black screen in his room for, until Agent Sitwell, who had been assigned to him, realized and quickly taught Steve how to use it properly. He had avoided it after that. Television nowadays baffled him, just like half of the things in this new world. What on earth could one possibly need one hundred channels for? And an internet connection? What was that?

Unsurprisingly, the room given to him by Tony Stark contained a flat-screen TV. What did surprise him though, was the instruction manual left beside it, and every other appliance in his room. In fact, there was even an old radio beside his bed and when he finally found the 'on' button to the television, it started showing _Lights of New York_, a film he remembered watching with his mother once. Steve had sat on the bed, blue eyes fixed on the screen and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. It seemed that Tony had downloaded several old films onto the TV, according to JARVIS (Steve wasn't even going to try and understand the 'AI' that Tony had been talking about when he showed them around) and the radio was also a music player that had music on it categorized according to era. In the chest of drawers next to his bed, Steve found several old pictures of Howard and Peggy and the Howling Commandoes. How Stark had gotten his hands on them, Steve had no idea, but it was an unexpectedly nice gesture.

And it compounded the guilt that had been festering in Steve for the past few days. He could still vividly remember the words he had spat at Tony in the helicarrier.

_Not a hero… you don't look out for anyone but yourself._

Steve snorted in disgust at himself. Time and time again, Tony had shown that he was anything but what Steve had accused of him being. Okay, so he was narcissist and egotistical and loud, but Steve couldn't forget him throwing himself into the blades of an engine. Or fighting aliens with just as much, maybe even more courage, than the Howling Commandoes had had seventy years ago. Or flying a nuke through a portal into outer space with no intention of coming back.

He had been horrible to Tony Stark. He had been a bully and Steve Rogers hated bullies. Steve paced the room, trying to focus his thoughts. It had been a struggle to do that, after waking up from the ice. His mind constantly drifted, seventy years back, back home to where everyone he had known and cared for was. And where he could never go back to. They were all dead, gone, lost to him forever. They had moved on, carried on living and Steve Rogers had been trapped in the ice, displaced and now lost in a time that wasn't his own.

There, he realized, was the root of his issue with Stark. The man was Howard's son. He was a living, breathing reminder that the world had moved on without Steve, that everything had changed, leaving Steve two steps behind and struggling to catch up. And Steve, confused and angry, had lashed out at Tony. Maybe the latter had been slightly out of line too, but Steve knew that his assessment and treatment of Stark had been completely unfair.

He gritted his teeth and carefully opened the door to his room. No use dancing around the issue anymore. He owed Stark an apology. It seemed ridiculous that he had to use an elevator to move up two floors but he had no idea where the stairs were, or if there were even stairs, so he punched the button to the communal floor and fought back the urge to close the doors himself.

The elevator opened a half second later with a gentle ding and Steve stepped into the living area they were supposed to share. Here, the TV mounted on the wall was so big it was almost obscene. Several couches and armchairs sat around and the rug in the middle looked fluffy enough to fall asleep on (no, Captain America did not just use the word 'fluffy') on the other side of the room was a bar and Steve frowned slightly at the number of bottles he saw there. Next to it was a piano.

A turn to the left led to the kitchen and across it was a set of glass doors that led to the massive balcony. Steve could see two figures sitting there, leaning against the glass railings. Stark and Miss Potts. Pepper leaned over to wipe at Tony's forehead, screwing up her nose in disgust at whatever she had just cleaned away. Laughing, she wiped it on the inventor's sleeve. Tony wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as they talked quietly.

Steve paused at the threshold of the kitchen, unwilling to intrude on their moment. He watched Pepper rest her head on Tony's shoulder and suddenly all he could think about was another red-head, in another time, which was now so far out of his reach. Sadness threatened to consume him and he welcomed the familiar clench in his throat, the stinging in his eyes.

He headed back to the elevator. Maybe he would apologize tomorrow instead.

…

Right hook. Overhand left, jab with the right. Roundhouse kick, dodge the bag, left uppercut. The steady thumps of her limbs on the punching bag were quickly degenerating into a rhythm-less mess and finally Natasha stopped, catching the bag as it swung back towards her. She rested her forehead against it, pausing to catch her breath. A quick glance to the clock told her that she had been beating it up for the past two hours and it was just as well that she had stopped before her technique got sloppy. The last thing she needed was a broken nose because she hadn't gotten out of the way of the bag fast enough.

The red-headed spy blinked the sweat out of her eyes before starting to do a cooling-down routine. It had been a long time since she had felt the need to unleash that much wrath on a punching bag, but given the events of the past few days, she supposed it was excusable. Natasha was more than a little apprehensive about living with the rest of The Avengers. By nature, she was a solitary person. On base or on the helicarrier, most people avoided her because of her reputation and the only company she had ever had, or wanted, had been Clint and Phil.

Now, everything had changed and Natasha was in no way happy about it. She was back to being in close quarters with Tony Stark and she wondered how long it would be before she started throwing cutlery, something she had frequently done to Clint when they first started working together (she still did it sometimes). Then there were Rogers and Thor, who were in every way open and honest and just so ridiculously _good _it unnerved her. She was certain Dr. Banner still harbored some animosity toward her for pulling a gun on him when she tried to bring in him. Usually, living with five men would be enough of deterrence to Natasha, so she should have been grateful that Pepper Potts was around. That is, if she hadn't gone undercover as Natalie Rushman and lied her way into Stark Industries. Pepper probably hated her and Natasha couldn't blame her for that.

All in all, Natasha had no reason to want to be here. Except for Clint. Back in the base, he had given her his equivalent of 'I want in, but do what you think is right.' (A half-smile and a shrug) but she knew how badly he needed to get away from SHIELD. He couldn't take the way the place had suddenly turned on him, how whispers followed him everywhere he went. Admittedly, it had always been like that for the two of them but now the whispers were malevolent and the glances had turned into glares. It wasn't healthy for Clint to stay on base. So she moved them here.

Clint. That was a whole other problem that she wasn't quite sure how to start dealing with. The archer still clearly blamed himself and he wasn't listening to anyone who told him otherwise. He had disappeared into the air vents when they first arrived and Natasha knew he wouldn't be coming out in a hurry. She wondered they could last with Clint shutting her out like this. He needed her as much as she needed him.

She finished the routine and paused in the middle of the gym, eyeing her surroundings. Natasha didn't want to admit it, but she was impressed. The gym, located a few floors above Tony's lab, but still underground, was easily twice the size of the Helicarrier's control room. There were several punching bags around her, a ring for sparring and fitness equipment. On the other side of the room were monkey bars and other stretching devices. Horizontal steel bars hung from the ceiling at varying heights, perfect for gymnastics. A shooting range had been built in the other corner, next to a store that was well-stocked with guns, ammunition and several inflatable bouncy balls. The final wall of the room had been replaced by a single sheet of glass that could go from a mirror to an unremarkable white wall at a command to JARVIS.

Natasha supposed it wasn't half-bad, living here. Worse things had happened and she suspected that they would be happening soon enough.

And with that cheery thought in mind, she headed back up to her room, hoping she wouldn't meet anyone on the way.

…

The air ducts in Stark Tower were much cleaner than the ones back on base and Clint supposed it was to do with the new-ness of the tower and having a computer system that could run checks and send robots into the vents to clean up. The archer was surprised that he hadn't been kicked out of the ventilation system yet. He had climbed into it in his room and then proceeded to clamber down the hundred-or so floors and then back-up again. Right now, he was nestled in a dead-end somewhere on the fiftieth floor, nearby several researchers who were working overtime and chattering about the upgrades they were adding to their Stark Phones.

He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the vent and blocked out the sound of the researchers. Clean-up had stopped now and it wouldn't resume till morning, but before they had been kicked off the site by Hill, a note had been slipped into Clint's jacket pocket. He'd noticed, of course, but waited till he was alone on the upper floors of a wrecked building to read it. That way, when he leant against the wall and sank slowly to the floor, the words 'traitor' and 'murderer' swimming through his mind, no one saw. The note told him nothing he didn't already know. But all the same, it hurt.

The archer was trying though, wasn't he? Trying to right his wrongs in any way he could. That was why he had been planning his statement for the Council in his head. That was why he clocked in more hours at clean-up than anyone else did, except Natasha, but that was because she refused to leave him there alone.

He snorted in derision in his head. If only it was easy as clearing a bit of rubble. He could do that, but Clint Barton couldn't bring the dead back to life, no matter how much he might want to. And he wanted to, so badly it was like a constant ache in his mind. Because all of this was his fault. All the agents lost from the attack on the helicarrier, all the casualties of the invasion. If he had just been a little bit _stronger._

The archer ground his teeth together, a hand clenched tightly around the bars of a grille that led to an empty storeroom. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, but where could he start? And who would listen? He lay back on the duct, letting it drain the heat away from his body and wished that he could sink into it and never surface again.

**A/N: idk where I'm going with this chapter really. The next one was pretty hard to write so I'm currently rethinking it.**

**Also, I got my GCE O level results today and was very very surprised. :D Woohoo! **


	4. Grief

The late morning light was streaming through the massive windows of the living area when Steve stepped out of the elevator, still wiping off sweat from his workout. The insomnia that had plagued the supersoldier since he had woken up three months ago hadn't faded despite the change in accommodations, so three a.m. had found him in the gym, slamming his fists into punching bags until their filling littered the floor.

By the time he had finished cleaning it all up, it was well into the morning, so Steve was bracing himself to meet the entire team in the kitchen. Part of him wanted to slink back to his room, but the other part of him, the boy from Brooklyn, remembered that he owed Tony Stark an apology. So he had gritted his teeth and pressed the button for the floor two floors above his.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting when the lift doors slid open and he cautiously poked his head out. Arguing, or maybe polite chatter. But what greeted him was silence. He wandered his way through the living area and once again paused at the threshold of the kitchen. It was empty save for the red-headed assassin sitting at the massive table, nursing a cup of coffee and staring at a brown folder in front of her.

'Captain Rogers,' she said in greeting, even though her back was to him and he was certain he hadn't made a sound.

'Agent Romanoff,'

She was dressed similarly to when he had first met her on the helicarrier, in pastel blue t-shirt, jacket and jeans, which seemed to be her default style whenever she wasn't in uniform. It was a little surreal, seeing the deadly assassin doing something as normal as sitting there with coffee, even though Steve had fought next to her.

He fidgeted with his towel by the entrance for several seconds before voicing his next question, gesturing weakly towards the empty kitchen.

'Uh, where is everybody?'

Natasha glanced towards the ceiling and even though Steve had 'met' JARVIS yesterday, it was still a shock to hear the disembodied voice in a British accent.

'_Agent Romanoff. Captain Rogers. Dr. Banner is currently reading in his room. Miss Potts is in her office on the 70__th__ floor. Sir is half-comatose in the penthouse and Agent Barton is in the air vents above you._'

Natasha rolled her eyes at the last statement, wrapping her hands more tightly around the coffee mug. 'Thank you, JARVIS,'

'_My pleasure.' _

'Oh,' Steve exhaled. 'Right. Computer system in the… walls.'

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling slow and stupid in this new century. He could feel Romanoff's eyes on him and it only compounded the feeling.

'I dropped by SHIELD this morning,' she finally said, breaking the awkward silence. 'They said we can't join clean-up just yet, Ross is probably still around.'

Steve nodded slowly, tossing the towel onto his shoulder before venturing into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of milk. Other than drinks, the fridge was sadly barren, save for a few pieces of fruit, which he grabbed. The effects of exercise and his high metabolism were making themselves known through his stomach.

'Is that a new mission?' He asked, gesturing to the file with the glass of milk.

Natasha paused slightly, setting the coffee mug gently back down on the table.

'No,' she said, looking him in the eye, expression carefully neutral, 'this is paperwork. For Agent Coulson. The arrangements for his funeral.'

The breath caught in Steve's throat and he exhaled sharply, staring down at the floor.

'Oh,' He forced himself to look back at her unreadable green gaze, 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' she said simply, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, 'He knew what he was doing.'

Her eyes suddenly skipped back to the ceiling, but this time they were focused on the vent cover.

'Clint,' she snapped, 'Get down here.'

There was no response, but the spy's gaze never wavered. Then the cover was pulled to the side and five feet and eight inches of lithe archer dropped out, landing neatly next to the table.

Steve thought that the complete lack of shock he felt was proof of how insane his life had become.

'Captain.' Barton's blue-gray eyes focused on him and Steve couldn't help but notice the dark rings under them and the crumpled state of his clothes, the same ones he had been wearing yesterday.

'Agent Barton,' He replied, but the archer's gaze had already transferred itself to the file on the table, expression unreadable.

Natasha leaned towards him, gripping his arm and the way Clint stiffened slightly wasn't missed by any of them. She murmured something in another language and when Clint glanced up to look at her, for a second Steve saw a flash of grief and heavy guilt mixed in the archer's eyes. It was almost like looking at a reflection of himself after Bucky's death.

There was something in the assassin's shared look that made Steve uncomfortable, as though he was intruding on an insanely private moment.

'Excuse me,' Steve mumbled and made a hasty exit from the kitchen.

…

Never let it be said that the agents weren't efficient. Most of the arrangements for Phil's funeral had already been done by SHIELD. All Clint and Natasha had to do was decide who should be there and what should be done. That very afternoon, memos were sent to the Avengers and select SHIELD agents and two other people, informing them that the funeral service for Phillip Robert Coulson would be held tomorrow morning.

Pepper cancelled her appointments. Tony had JARVIS lock the liquor cabinets till the next day. Bruce crept out of his room long enough to ask if Tony could loan a dark suit jacket and spent the night impressing on the Other Guy the importance of staying calm. He was surprisingly compliant. Maria Hill spent the night emptying clip after clip of bullets in SHIELD's shooting range. Steve pulled out a stack of stained trading cards from a corner of his backpack and signed every one, before putting them in an envelope addressed to Patrick Clancy's office in Robertson & Finnigan Banking. They would be re-routed to find their way to the now-vacant desk of Phil Coulson, senior handler of SHIELD. He would have been in the gym, but it was occupied by Natasha, who was wrecking nearly as many punching bags as he had the night before by whipping out her knives and stabbing them, wishing she could shut off her emotions as easily as the Red Room had wanted her to. On the roof, eyes stinging not just from the wind, Clint Barton sat right on the lip of the ledge; letting his legs dangle over the drop, and dared himself to jump.

…

When morning rolled around it was with a mournful grey sky and gentle drizzle, almost as though the world mourned the loss of Phil Coulson with them. A small group dressed in black was gathered around a marble headstone in a cemetery and as Tony cast his gaze about, he couldn't help thinking that the Agent deserved so much more. Yet he knew that the man would have hated a grand occasion, so it was just as well planning had been left to the two assassins and not him.

The service was short and simple, just a few words read over the casket before it was buried. They all stayed through the ceremony, until the priest awkwardly shook Natasha's hand and hurried away. There was no shortage of funerals to conduct after the attack.

With a warning for them to return to the tower quickly –Ross was still after them- Director Fury and Agent Hill took their leave. Tony, Pepper, Steve and Bruce stood a distance away from the grave, Tony with his arm wrapped around Pepper's shoulders as she cried softly. Steve held a large black umbrella aloft over the group, shielding them from the drizzle.

The inventor's throat was unusually tight. He averted his gaze from the grave, as though looking away could somehow make the whole damn situation go away but instead he saw a young woman standing in front of a grave a few rows away. It wasn't unusual, there were a fair number of people in the cemetery today but her gaze was fixed on their little group. She gripped a black umbrella tightly, brown hair starting to frizz slightly in the rain and looked like she had been punched in the stomach one too many times. Stunned grief was still etched on her face for a half-second when her gaze met Tony's, then she let her umbrella fall forward, shielding her as she turned and left.

The knot in his stomach tightened, grief crawling up the length of his throat. He had been half-hoping and half-dreading that she would actually come. He really wasn't sure how to even breach the situation, but he figured it was the very least he could do for Phil Coulson.

'I didn't know he had a brother.' Bruce mumbled from where he stood with his hands in his pockets, curly head bowed.

Tony gazed at the headstone, with the words _Phillip Robert Coulson _tidily engraved on it. Below the name were three words:

_Friend, brother, hero. _

'He didn't,' Tony muttered, 'No known family.'

'Sometime family doesn't have to be by blood,' Steve's gaze was distant, but it was still fixed on the two agents standing further in front of them, out of the umbrella's protection and closer to the grave.

Neither had bothered with dressing particularly formally, which was just as well since rain was slowly soaking through the two of them. They had stood right by the grave throughout the service, stiff-shouldered and tense. Halfway through, Clint's hand had reached out, almost unconsciously, to tightly grip Natasha's.

Now though, a faint tremor seemed to run through the archer and without warning he crumpled to his knees in front of the grave, head bowed and fingers clenched in the loose soil.

Tony started forward slightly but Pepper wrapped an arm around his waist, anchoring him to her side. The quartet stood there, quiet witnesses to the assassin's grief. Carefully, Natasha crouched down next to Clint, one hand on her partner's back, the other on their handler's headstone. Even from where they stood they could see Clint trembling as he glanced upwards, lips framing soundless apologies. Natasha's gaze was fixed on the grave, face impassive but Tony could practically feel the tension in her rigid joints, the pain she was valiantly fighting back.

…

The drizzle had mutated into a thunderstorm by late afternoon, so Tony let out a sigh of relief as he hurried into warm, dry café, leaving Happy to stow the umbrella away and order himself a cup of coffee.

He walked along the L-shaped counter towards the back of the establishment where the small booths were tucked away from the windows and slid into the one on the far left.

'Is all this secrecy really necessary?' he asked, 'It's not like I'm exactly inconspicuous, mind you.'

The woman opposite him tilted her head, brown hair spilling out of a messy ponytail as she regarded him.

'That depends on whether you think having the CIA know that I'm talking to Tony Stark is a good idea.'

Her voice was still hoarse, eyes still red-rimmed and Tony sighed, ducking his head in acknowledgement.

'What do you want?' she asked softly, staring into the depths of her cup of coffee, one hand playing with the collar of her turtleneck. The faint outline of a necklace could be seen underneath.

'I uh, saw you at the funeral. At the other side of the cemetery.'

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. 'I tried, but I couldn't stay away. Stupid, right?' she shook her head, 'I take it that you're not the only one who noticed me?'

'Well the other two who know you weren't some random passer-by aren't about to go tattle. You did get an invitation too, you know.'

'How are they doing?'

Tony raised an eyebrow, reaching across the table to snag a fry from her untouched plate of food.

'How do you think they're doing? You could talk to them.'

She shook her head again, 'Where's the point in doing that now?' tiredness seemed to cling to her as she looked up at him again. 'You still haven't told me what you want.'

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking at her right in the eye. 'I just want to know if you need anything. Anything that used to be his. Trading cards, letters, whatever.'

'Why do you care?' Her tone wasn't rude, just curious.

'Because… Because…' He cast his gaze heavenwards and shook his head in exasperation, 'Must there be a reason? I'm trying to do something good here, don't make me even try to explain it.'

She reached up to push her hair out of her face as she stirred her coffee. Their little booth was silent for a long time before:

'In his desk. The second drawer on the left, when you take it out, there's a picture taped to the bottom. That's all I want.'

'I'll see what I can do.' He murmured, standing up to leave.

'Mr. Stark,' she was looking at him, gaze fixed and serious, 'Thank you.'

Tony grimaced slightly, raising an eyebrow, 'Call me Tony. Mr. Stark is my dad.'

With that, he hurried back out again, closely followed by Happy and the umbrella, leaving the brown-haired woman staring morosely at the table, already reaching for napkins to stem the tears.

…

_**Undisclosed subterranean location. **_

The quiet hiss of the ventilator and the steady beeping from the monitors were the only sounds in the room. Nick Fury grimaced. The room was far too white. All four windowless walls were alabaster, the floor was a single patch of spotless ivory and the chair he sat on was white. The man lying in said bed was also far too pale for the Director's liking. If it weren't for his head of dark hair and the steady rising and falling of his chest, Phil Coulson would have blended right into the bed sheets.

Nick sighed, letting his hands rest on the railings by the side of the bed, 'They're going to kill me for this.' He let his one eye stare tiredly at his second-in-command's face 'But what else am I supposed to do? You better wake up, you son of a bitch.'

He paused, but there was no response from the comatose agent, as always. Tubes, needles and bandages were still attached to many surfaces of Phil Coulson. The clipboard at the end of the table detailed the surgeries he had gone through, and the many more that were to come.

Nick Fury leaned close to the handler, trying not focus on the thick tube taped to Phil's mouth or the one running up his nose, his voice almost a growl.

'C'mon Agent. We need you.'

A/N: 1. This chapter was a complete bitch to write.

2. There're are some unanswered bits in it, but they'll be answered in another chapter or another fic, promise!

3. **Coulson lives.**

4. I've been reading some books on writing and realizing how screwed up my writing is, especially chapter 2 :( Rawr.


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